


Nail Polish

by theprincessed



Series: Love, Sex and Magic: Random Ficlets [3]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, Hand Jobs, M/M, Nail Polish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-09
Updated: 2013-05-09
Packaged: 2017-12-10 22:36:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/790975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theprincessed/pseuds/theprincessed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Harry's forced to have his nails painted at a radio station interview, Louis gives him a handjob to make up for any embarrassment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nail Polish

About fifteen minutes into their car journey, Louis finally can't let Harry's fidgeting go without doing something and he turns to slap his hands down.

"Stop it," he laughs, "Stop picking at it!"

"But I'm wearing nail polish, Louis," he whines, frowning when Louis only cackles.

"Serves you right for being an attention seeker, mate."

To be stubborn and perhaps with the thinking of pissing Louis off to serve him right for being unsympathetic, Harry takes his thumbnail and scratches madly at it with the other with an exaggerated scowl on his face. He hasn't got fingernails to speak of so barely anything of value flakes off but it’s enough to know that it slightly calms him. He'd say he's learnt his lesson about wanting the prize before he knows what it is, but he also knows that he probably hasn't. This time, Louis covers his hands properly and squeezes to immobilise them. Harry freezes, holding very still as the memory of the radio station and being held down sparks brightly into his mind again as Louis pulls him closer by his shoulder.

"You're cute." he murmurs into his curls where no one can hear.

It's lucky they're in the backseat because Harry can almost bodily rip himself out of his grip without causing a scene and he stares with wide eyes as Louis simply smirks through a bitten lip then goes back to looking out the window.

He knows.  
\---

Louis unlocks their hotel room with his keycard as he's the one in front of the door; Harry hovering behind. He seems a little on edge but some part of Louis kinda likes that so he doesn't make a comment or a joke. He walks in and is about to take a shower (mostly for something to do and just in case Zayn decides he wants to check out the bar downstairs after all) when he hears a loud, heavy sigh. He turns and uses his hands to lean back on the counter lining the wall next to the TV cabinet. Behind his shoulders is a mirror that is almost as wide as the counter and when Harry looks up to see Louis staring at him, Louis notices how his eyes flick minutely between his face and the mirror.

"Alright?" he smiles, genuinely meaning it.

Harry huffs again, only it’s not agitated anymore, just slightly amused. "Yeah."

He shakes his hair out and back, blue glitter catching the light and Louis presses his lips together to keep from getting the giggles. Instead, he leans back on his hands even more, his fingers splayed against the wood. For a second time, Harry looks at him but now it’s at his hands and he blinks quickly, like he's desperately clawing back from something.

"Why don't you check the bathroom?" Louis suggests, crossing the room to where his sports bag is tucked under the window, "There might be some remover in there."

He's in there like a shot and out again too, proudly brandishing a travel size bottle which makes him grin triumphantly.

"Honestly," Louis mocks with a sigh, "You'd never make it as a girl. And I guess our "emo" phase is out of the question too."

Wordlessly, Harry sits down in the wooden chair by the counter and moves any of their stuff to the sides with a sweep of his arm. Armed with cotton wool, at least he has some idea what to do now. Meanwhile, Louis tugs his white t-shirt with the stripes over his head, but he soon feels eyes on his naked back so he turns to look. Harry blinks into the mirror, shifting in a split second to look at himself before looking back down at his spread hand and scrubbing furiously. With another half tilt of his mouth, Louis drops the t-shirt onto his bag and slowly walks towards him, draping arms over his shoulders and careful not to go anywhere near his hands for now.

"You called?"

"I...didn't." he settles on uncertainly.

"Oh I think you did." Louis replies, moving his hand back to squeeze Harry's shoulder and pressing his thumb lightly against his collarbone. He sees his throat work as he swallows and leans in once more, "It's not about the nails, is it, Harry?"  
When he doesn't get a reaction never mind an answer, Louis makes sure he won't knock the bottle over before he covers Harry's hands. It's different from the car and from this height with Harry sitting. It's...well, it's exactly like at the radio station, except now Louis pushes on the upturned palms with more force, literally holding Harry down when he chances a move. He does it twice until Harry breaks, exhaling quickly.

"No." he answers finally and they both watch on near-silent as Louis' index fingers gently stroke backwards over his knuckles.

"And what about that?" he nods and his eyes meet Harry's in the mirror as he automatically looks up to see what he's referring to. "Do you see yourself looking into that mirror, me behind you, doing what you want. What I want. What we both want...?" his voice drops to a whisper as he hunches over him to speak into his ear, "Come on, Haz. Tell me what it is you're thinking about today...?"

The insistent pressure returns and Louis sees him close his eyes and draw his lower lip between his teeth. They're not exactly new to this, it’s not the first time, but it’s been weeks because they've been so damn busy and Louis knows that something about the restriction and his teasing will make things start to crackle between them.

"The radio station." he says, eyes hardening because he can play ball just as hard, just as good. "You and your fucking hands. I know you like to get your own way and that was the perfect excuse, wasn't it? Any excuse to touch me and even more of one to do it like that in front of everyone. In front of strangers, Louis."

Seeing the colour of his eyes gather like an oncoming storm that they both stand in the way of, Louis twists Harry's head towards him by his jaw, thumb pressing in as his mouth quickly swoops onto his to begin.

"Stand up." he demands shortly afterwards as he wrenches their lips apart.

Something burning hot and needy crawls up his spine as Harry does as he’s told and he himself reacts, kicking over the newly vacated chair so he can slot in behind his body.

“Keep your hands still.” he continues, as he presses a palm in the middle of Harry’s shoulder blades to get him to lean forward a little more.

With a quiet, steadying breath in, Louis flicks Harry’s jeans open then grabs hold of them and his underwear to quickly yank them down to his ankles. Harry sways from the movement and maybe a surprised gasp reaches Louis’ ears but there’s no protest so he carries on, pressing close but not against any part of him, stood at Harry’s left side. Drawn to the hands again, Louis runs his fingertips from the shining glitter and slowly, lightly, up his arm until he briefly stops at his ear to tuck some wayward curls out of the way. He strokes over the nape of Harry’s neck and then back to his shoulder blades, feeling him tremble under the touch that never seems to be going anywhere in particular or leading to anything. This time, figuring he needs something for his strangely obedient efforts, Louis stands directly behind him and brushes his crotch close to his bare arse. Harry’s right elbow twitches but he’s staring steadfast at his own hands, as if they keep him grounded, so Louis returns to them and rocks into him with the leverage, his fingertips sometimes curling around Harry’s but never lifting.  
When Louis’ not sure who’s laboured breathing he hears the most, he puts an arm around Harry’s waist then lower to fist his cock as he moves his other hand to a hip. He looks magnificent from this angle, all long limbs and pliancy. The red of his polo shirt seems to make his erection look even more flushed and when his mouth falls slack his lips are just as pinked. Spurred on by that image, Louis strokes him evenly but keeps the pace languid until he feels a weight against his shoulder and he glances up from concentrating to see Harry trying to subtly lean into him.

“No,” he soothes, but is firm as he leaves his cock alone for a moment to pull green eyes back level with the mirror. “look. Keep still. Look at how lovely you are.”

As soon as Louis touches Harry’s cock again, he sets a faster rhythm because the time for games is approaching its end. He wants Harry to watch as he makes him split in every direction, unfurling until it’s almost as if he was spread out on the bed behind them.

“You can make noise, babe. In fact, make lots if you want.” he smiles when he can see him try to hold on, gritting his teeth over his captured lip.

Upon hearing that offering, Harry gasps like he’s been really been holding his breath and his thighs start to shake from his impending orgasm, valiantly standing still as ordered. In truth, Louis doesn’t mind if he moves but Harry taking his words so literally is turning him on so much that he’s in two minds as to who will outlast who. However, with a vicious twist, squeeze and a punishing number of short, hard strokes, Harry moans out loud for the first time and comes generously over Louis’ fingers to the feel of Louis’ face tucked into his neck and kisses dotted onto his covered shoulder.

“Oh look at you,” Louis praises as he floats back into consciousness, “so gorgeous.”

He tries to make the fact that he’s in need of relief as inconspicuous as possible, but he knows Harry’s not an idiot either as he slips his arm between their sandwiched together bodies and down the front of his trousers. He bites into the material in front of him, tasting cotton instead of bruising skin with his fingertips and, with a couple of quick tugs that Harry feels the ghost of along his exposed flesh, Louis comes with a stuttering exhale. Breathless, he rests his forehead there for a moment with his hips angled slightly backwards and then chuckles tiredly.

“Told you good things would happen if you embrace it.”

Harry snorts with laughter at that as he leans more heavily against the counter and also the kiss that Louis plants sweetly just below his ear.

“Although,” he adds, straightening up and his face twisting, “now I really do need a shower. Otherwise ‘Louis fucks up his clothes by coming all over himself’ is far worse than ‘Harry wore girly nail polish for a day’.”

Damp and sticky, he sidesteps out from behind Harry and their eyes catch in the mirror. Harry’s face says he wants to laugh but there’s also something else there that Louis can’t quite read for definite, like Louis’ perhaps turning his insides hot and topsy turvy without having to do very much at all.

Quick to leave, he is half a step towards the bathroom when he feels warm hands grab him tightly around the waist and turn him around. Louis lets his messy own hang by his sides and can’t do much anyway as Harry doesn’t give him a chance, kissing him full on the mouth as soon as he blinks the spin out of his eyes.

“I take back what I said.” he explains in a low voice, nosing at his cheek, “Do that in front of anybody, any time you like. I like it when you want me that much.”

Louis stares at him searchingly but chooses not to say anything for a long pause as he extricates himself and uses it to walk to the bathroom door. As if thinking twice when he gets there, he stops and throws a look over his shoulder, eyelashes lowered. “Then you won’t have to wait for long.”


End file.
